San Francisco
Part 29
Pop had already showered and shaved by the time I woke. It was almost 8, and breakfast had been ordered. Mmmmm! Pancakes and maple syrup, cereal, juice, bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, and coffee. Wicked! I was starving! Hey, all teens are always starving. Right?
I threw the covers off while the waiter was placing breakfast on the table, and rolled outa bed. He glanced at the fact that I was totally starkers, then looked momentarily at my bed, which obviously hadn’t been slept in. “It’s OK,” I explained as I stretched, then yawned, allowing my piss boner to bounce in all directions. “Pop behaved himself.”
“Daniel!” Pop scolded, then turned a brilliant shade of scarlet.
“Enjoy your breakfast, gentlemen,” the waiter said casually, with just a hint of a smile, being careful not to embarrass Pop any further. “Are you going to the parade today?”
“Parade?”
“The San Francisco Pride Parade.”
“You mean like gay?” I asked. “Spencer told me about that… he’s a friend of ours who lives here. He went to it once. He’s… well, he’s sorta… I mean, he’s not like a mincing fairy, if you know what I mean.”
“Lots of people watch the parade who are not gay. It’s a party. Everyone’s welcome.”
“You wanna check it out, Pop?”
“Uh… well… I suppose we’re only here for a short time as tourists and… well, yes, I’ll think about it.” Then he gave the waiter a tip, as if to suggest he leave the room pronto.
“Thank you very much, sir,” the waiter smiled, before turning and heading for the door. “Enjoy your breakfast, gentlemen.”
“Don’t eat it all, Pop. Back in a sec. Gotta take a piss.”
Over breakfast, I asked my old bud about his publisher friend, and what he was gonna do about getting his work printed in book form.
“I’ve been thinking about it. Not sure.” He paused a moment to chew on some bacon and egg. “I’d be tied up with all sorts of contractual agreements that might compromise my literary freedom. At the moment, I’m free to write whatever I want, and that’s a freedom too precious to risk losing, Daniel; like any other freedom. Publishers tend to worry about public opinion; about offending people. It’s a bit like the Pride Parade. For two days people get an opportunity to express themselves in a pretty uninhibited manner. Then they disappear for the next 363 days, and melt back into normal society – or perhaps closets - as if they’d never existed.”
“So what are you gonna tell the publisher?”
“I haven’t quite decided yet. And by the way, why do you make so much damn noise when you’re urinating? It’s a wonder the entire hotel’s guests can’t hear it.”
“Huh? I do? Yeah, now that you mention it, you don’t make any noise when you piss.”
“I aim my… uh… I aim for the side of the bowl.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s more discreet. I don’t want everyone knowing… well… that is, I don’t think it’s necessary to advertise what’s going on… like you do. I don’t need a brass band and a whole bunch of placard wavers while I’m in there.”
“What’s the biggie about taking a piss? Everyone does it. Besides, if you go to the bathroom, it’s not like you’re in there to pluck your fucking eyebrows or whatever.”
“You have no decorum, Daniel.”
“What’s decorum?”
“Respect for social convention and good manners.”
I almost choked on my hashbrown. “Pissing silently is good manners? Jeez! What’s the matter with you, Pop? How come you get all bent outa shape about natural stuff?”
“Not everyone’s like you, Daniel.”
“Does that make me weird?”
“Not really. It just makes you you. So if you can be you, I can be me.”
“Freedom of expression, huh?”
“Or the lack thereof. Anyway, are you sure you wanna go to the Parade today? People might think… well… uh… there’s a possibility that they might…”
“Think what?” I asked as Pop’s voice trailed off while he added milk and sugar to his coffee. “That I’m gay? That you’re gay? That we’re gay? That we’re… you and me…?”
“Did you notice the expression on the waiter’s face a few minutes ago? And why do you think he asked you if you were going to the Parade today?”
“Does it matter what he thinks? You’re always telling me that it doesn’t matter what people think. That what’s important is what I think. Anyway, he said all kinds of people watch the Parade. It’s a party and everyone’s invited. That includes you and me, Pop.” I swallowed the last mouthful of breakfast, and washed it down with some juice. “Hey, I gotta shower. Wanna watch?”
“You know the answer to that, Daniel.”
“Is that a yes?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong with watching? Can’t do any harm. It’s not like you’re gonna be in the shower with me.”
“Why do you tease me like this, Daniel?” he complained. “Does it give you some kinda masochistic pleasure?”
“You know it’s not like that, Pop. Gimme a break! OK, so I have a bit of fun with you sometimes, but I know you like it when I kid around even though you pretend you don’t. And, anyway, I like being watched. What’s the point of having a bod like this if I can’t show it off?” I stood, puffed out my chest and flexed my biceps. “Hey, check it out. Pretty cool, huh?”
“Very.”
“So come and watch, for fuck sake. You write stories, right? Think of it as research. How are you gonna write about stuff like this if you don’t do research?” I had to practically drag Pop into the bathroom. Then I sat him down on a stool placed just a few feet from the shower. “Now stay there. Don’t move!”
I turned on the taps, checked the water temp, then stepped inside, leaving the sliding door wide open. As soon as my tanned skin was wet and shiny, the old dude was hypnotized. There was no way he was gonna take his eyes off my bod. I had to smile… the kinda smile you get when you’re in control, knowing that you’ve got somebody totally in the palm of your hand.
The problem was, I had a boner. So I soaped my hand, and started to jack off. “Sorry, Pop. It’s something I’ve gotta take care of. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Huh?”
“I said it’s something… never mind.”
I was standing side-on to Pop as I gave my seven inches long, slow, sensual strokes while I watched his face. His eyes would occasionally meet mine, but only for a fleeting second. Then they’d be focused on my throbber again, with its bulbous knob and enlarged pisshole, threatening to explode at any moment.
When I felt the surge of electric stirrings in my groin, and knew the rush was about to begin, I turned and faced my old bud. His gaze was fixed on my cockhead as my knees buckled and my back arched. The first jet of Daniel juice shot out like a scalded white cat and flew through the air, landing on Pop’s knee. The second found the back of his hand. The rest splattered on various places, including his chin and forehead.
“Sorry, Pop,” I cracked. “I’d never make a sharp-shooter.” Then I turned side-on again and aimed my cock at the tiled wall. “Piss time!” Once the first few squirts had become a powerful and constant stream of yellow, I added, “Did you know that Paul loves my piss?”
“You mentioned that to me once.”
“Yeah. Weird, huh? But, hey, it’s cool with me. Whatever turns a dude on. What do you think?”
“About what?”
“My piss.”
“Well… uh… Listen, Daniel, I really shouldn’t be here.”
“Bullshit. I haven’t finished showering yet.” And with that, I shook the last few drops of piss from my cockhead, then brushed my teeth before I began to soap my body. “I don’t know what you’re so fucking paranoid about, Pop. I like checking out Paul and Dick and Greg and Spencer and whoever else when they’re showering. It’s cool. All that horny, wet, shiny skin. Why should you be any different?”
“I suppose you’ve got a point.”
“You got a boner?” I grinned.
“What do you think?”
“I think if you’ve got a boner that’s a compliment.”
“Then consider yourself complimented.”
“Cool. Can I tell you something? You’re a wicked audience, Pop. You appreciate me without threatening me. Know what I mean? You make me feel good ‘cause you love me. I mean, love me in a special way. Your special way. And you know something else? I love you, too. Not like I love my other buds – and you are a bud – but different. I dunno how to explain it, but it’s totally cool being with you.”
“I appreciate that.”
I turned off the taps, stepped outa the shower onto the floor mat, and grabbed the towel. “You wanna dry me?” Pop looked at the towel, then at me, then at the towel again. “Hey, it’s no biggie. It’s not like sex.”
Pop’s pants were tenting big time, which explained why he was toweling me at arm’s length. I had to laugh. He just couldn’t help getting all bent outa shape over the most innocent things. Well, innocent to me.
“You’d better dry your private parts, Daniel.”
“Private? What the fuck do you mean private? You’ve seen more of me than some of my friends have… not all that many, mind you… but you’ve seen it all a whole bunch of times. So what’s with this ‘private parts’ shit? You’re not leaving here until you’ve dried all of me.”
“Why do you still have a boner?” he asked as he ran the towel over it.
“’Cause you’re sexy.”
That cracked him up totally, and it was a while before he regained his composure. “Me? Yeah, right. About as sexy as a door knob.”
“No, really. Hey! You’re not drying my ass crack properly. Get the towel in there. Anyway, you are sexy. Ooo! That feels good.” I spread my legs a little, then continued. “Not sexy sexy, but kinda funny sexy. You make me laugh, and I get off ‘cause you gawk at me. You should see your face when you gawk, Pop. It’s fucking hilarious. You make me feel good. So, I can’t help getting a boner when that happens. Anyway, you’ve got a boner, so that makes me get a boner ‘cause I’m giving you one. Make sense?”
“Not in the least. That’s the biggest load of codswallop I’ve ever heard. There. Toweling’s finished.”
“You wanna dress me now?”
Back in the living area of the hotel room, I stood quietly while Pop put my clothes on. First, I lifted one leg at a time, and stepped into my boxers as he held them for me. “Is that thing ever going to go down?”
“He likes you, Pop,” I grinned. “And so do I. This is kinda crazy, I guess, but it feels good to have you fussing over me and looking after me… kinda like a dad.”
“You’re old enough to dress yourself.”
“Not as much fun, though.” Once my pants were on, I sat on a chair while Pop knelt before me and put my socks on. “Still think I’ve got sexy feet?”
“Feet were not designed to be sexy, Daniel. They were designed to be functional.”
“That doesn’t stop you thinking they’re sexy, though. Paul thinks they’re sexy, and I think his are sexy. So what makes something sexy?”
“Ask a hippopotamus who’s madly in love with another hippo.”
“Yeah, right. Hippos are NOT sexy!”
“They are if you’re a hippo.”
“So my feet aren’t really sexy?”
“They are if……… if…”
“If you’re a dirty old man,” I cracked. Then Pop put my sneakers on and tied the laces. Last was my t shirt, which showed off my pecs and abs. “How do I look?”
“I think you’ll be turning more than a few heads today, young man, but I guess you’re used to that.”
“It’s like a drug, Pop. If I didn’t turn heads I’d go into a huge fucking depression, wondering what the fuck was wrong with me.”
“The downside of being a hunk, huh? I don’t have that problem. Never did have.”Copyright © 2003 All rights reserved. mrbstories
